discord satellite
by tasteslikemiso
Summary: Dark nights and warm sunrises and legs tangled in sheets. Sasuke/Naruto. AU. Valley of the End pushed back until the two are older and have become involved.


**Notes:** Written April 2007. Betaed by yatto_na. The body of the story itself is written in 2nd person, Naruto's POV. Please keep in mind I was 14 when I wrote this. Alternate timeline. Valley of the End pushed back until the two are older and have become involved.

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**02.**

Dark nights and warm sunrises and legs tangled in sheets. Wide blue eyes glaze and ask if it was a mistake. Black ones narrow and taunt: come closer.

Not a mistake, but a joke, you think, trying to make sense of it all.

He kisses you again and you are struck dumb.

You make many more mistakes in different places, in different positions, sometimes many times a day.

**03.**

He sleeps on his back. You lie on your stomach.

He twitches, eyelids flickering, and yet doesn't wake. You imagine that this is the way dreams pass over him as he sleeps so still.

He is ethereal with eyes grey-black and hair dark against pale skin. He is as beautiful as any girl, you consider, before you shake your head to chase the thought away. You never were confused about his gender, never touched Sasuke because he looked like a girl, or because you didn't know better.

You almost wished you had, so you could still have those excuses to hide behind now.

You never compare him to a girl again, even with his delicate wrists, slim waist, and the tender way he could break every bone in your body. But that doesn't stop you from comparing him to yourself.

His hands are white, smooth and gently callused, but his fingers twist harshly in the sheets. You remember that he is a ninja, little more than a high-paid assassin. For him, there is no victim, no villain, no innocent, no guilty. There are no women, no children, no crippled, and no holds barred. There is only the target, the money, and how long it takes to bring back the head.

He could kill you, and would. You never forget what Sasuke is again.

**04.**

You never talked about your childhood, and he never asked. Or maybe he never cared enough to ask. Loneliness was something better left in the past, for the both of you.

Neither of you would talk about the future, either, except in the demanding shopping lists you tacked onto the refrigerator door.

Tomorrow was a distant, unmentionable world, because either of you could leave at night and never come back. No one doubted that. Not here, where everyone always kept a set of funeral clothes neatly pressed in their closet.

Sometimes Sasuke would leave in the middle of the night, and you wouldn't even hear the sheets rustle. Other times, you'd feel the mattress shift as his weight lifted, and decide to make breakfast the next morning. If you're not sure Sasuke will be there, at least you'll be sure of coffee.

Tomorrow is an unknown future in which he may or may not still be alive.

**05.**

Don't worry about it. Don't worry about it. He'll be fine.

You worry.

You look at the clock. He's an hour late. You turn on the TV, but the damn thing still isn't fixed and all you can see is static. It clouds your vision, makes a god-awful noise but at least you're not hyperventilating anymore. Which is a good thing, seeing as your blood pressure is probably through the roof as it is.

When Sasuke finally walks in dirty and, bleeding, but altogether whole, you don't even hit him for making you worry. Instead, you frown and pinch your nose dramatically, telling him to get his ass into the shower because he stinks even worse than usual. He smirks and tells you that absolutely nothing can smell worse than your leftovers in the fridge that after three weeks can't even be considered proper food anymore. You disagree just for the sake of argument, and everything is normal again.

That night, you go out on the town and get drunk. You think, what the hell? You only live once, after all.

You are young, innocent, and heartless and have everything to lose.

**06.**

You lost it young; but you should have been old enough to know better.

You bare your teeth and shove him down on the bed, pulling off clothes and anything else that gets in your way. Sasuke pushes you away, saying useless things about how he's not in the mood for your shit right now.

You push back.

You press hot fingers to cold skin, feeling the heat radiating as you press your body against his. He doesn't make a sound.

You wonder when Sasuke became so goddamn unfeeling. Then you wonder if it'll rub off on you.

He eyes you warily, and then quickly pushes you off. You tumble to the floor. It hurts. You feel glad. That's when he lets into you, and now he's the one pushing, all previous claims of not being up for it conveniently forgotten. When he pulls on your hair it hurts, and when he rakes his teeth over your neck it hurts, and he isn't gentle enough by a long shot.

It hurts the morning after too, and you swear at him. But in a sick way, you feel glad that you can still feel the pain.

**07.**

Dawn breaks as you huddle closer to him, tracing the seal with your fingers. You still don't know what it means, and he still doesn't tell you. He wakes with a start, flinching as he recoils from your touch. You are clearly invading his privacy. He pulls his shirt over the offending mark, hiding it away from your curious eyes. Your broken smile doesn't reach your eyes.

He mumbles an insult under his breath and turns so his back faces you. You are being ignored. You try to decide if you prefer this new Sasuke who doesn't let you touch him, or the unresponsive Sasuke of the previous evening.

"Neither" is, unfortunately, not an option.

**08.**

Your countdown to spring lasts 90 days, from the first day of winter until the last. You know it's a waste of time, but that doesn't stop you from shouting out the day every morning at the crack of dawn, before any decent person is up and about.

You yell, "February 23rd! 65th day of winter!" and Sasuke just claps his hands over his ears, mumbles something about how stupid you are, and tries valiantly to fall back asleep. Who is he to stop an annual tradition? You glance sideways at him, noting that he slept under all those blankets and still doesn't look any warmer.

You should have watched him more closely after that. You should have, but you didn't, even though you know that snakes are cold-blooded.

He slips away from you, and it is easier for you to choose not to recognize his solemnity as the chill of emotional severance that it is. One by one, he amputates his feelings from his life, and you go with them.

**09.**

Something happened to Sasuke, something makes him pull away from affectionate physical contact, makes him look at you with wary and distrustful eyes, makes him forget how to feel.

The only thing you know about the legendary, tragic Uchiha massacre is that it happened. And that Sasuke can't forget it.

Sasuke showed you how to throw shuriken once. It was the first and last time he ever offered you anything that could be considered "help". He hit all the targets even the blind spot behind the rock. You tried and fell face first into the dirt.

"It's not the same," he muttered.

Sasuke knows there is little joy to be found in recreating memories.

You think there is even less joy in being compared to ghosts. A human life is not equatable; one cannot replace another. You think it is unfair for him to try. You are forced to walk in the invisible shadow of people you have never even met.

Sasuke had a brother once. You always wanted one, but maybe it isn't such a great thing after all.

**10.**

"You aren't him." He says it calmly, a knowing accusation in his smug voice.

"I never said I was." You look quizzically at him. He must be in one of his moods.

Sasuke smiles, and looks like he is having the best moment of his life. Like he can imagine the feeling of Itachi's blood running through his fingers, while Itachi pleads for him to stop. As if he can feel the thrill of retribution.

He smiles at you, too. You are the only thing Itachi has ever wanted, and Sasuke has you. He is well aware of the selfish glee that comes when he doesn't have to share his favorite toy with his sibling. Sasuke wonders briefly if killing you in front of Itachi would pain him. If fucking you would. He'd gladly do either, if he thought it would hurt his brother as he dies.

You belong to Uchiha Sasuke and he will make you scream it as he breaks you.

**14.**

You get back from a particularly nasty mission late one night. The lights are off. Sasuke didn't wait up for you. He didn't stay up the way you would've for him. It's always little things like this. Little things that remind you of how much he doesn't care.

You're dead tired, anyways, so you decide to bring it up in the morning. At least then your tiredness and frayed post-mission nerves won't cause more yelling than there's bound to be already.

You wonder why you even bother. He's already spelled it out for you: he doesn't give a shit. You don't deserve any more of his time than you already consume, and you're probably worth even less. You decide not to bring it up at all, resign yourself to his selfish apathy.

Selfish apathy? You're sorely tempted to roll your eyes at your own whining. You chose to be here, with him. What do you think you signed on for anyways? You decide to give yourself a good mental kick in the pants.

You crawl into bed, leaning heavily on Sasuke. It feels...nice. It feels like home.

"Geroff, moron," he mumbles sleepily, jerking his shoulder away.

You hope that's just his way of saying: "Welcome home. I'm so glad you didn't die."

It isn't.

**23.**

The dishes are piled in the sink while empty take-out containers sit on the coffee table. You both deliberated over going out to dinner and the whole bit, but in the end the two of you spent the evening on his couch in your pajamas watching reruns on TV.

You end up having as much fun fighting over the remote as you would have had at the movies.

He momentarily regains control as you laugh against his neck, sinking into a hazy feeling of warmth.

It is at this precise moment that you strike, fumble for the remote, and end up headfirst in his lap, victorious. You lie on your back, kick your legs over the arm of the couch, and grin up at him, expecting him to push your head off his thighs.

"Dumbass," he says, shaking his head, but you can hear him smiling around the words and it doesn't mean a thing except, "I love you."

**17.**

The question is strained, but hopeful, like a bird released from its usual perch on the tip of your tongue.

You have never asked him that before. You have been together for ten months now, and he will leave you in two.

To admit to loving would be a weakness, a submission of the mind to the heart. Uchiha Sasuke is not such a fool as to have feelings that would interfere with his purpose.

But when he just rolled his eyes in response, an insult and a casual dismissal all at once, you took it to mean: "of course."

**16.**

You hold the picture in your hands, looking fondly down at the faces of your past. Today you can look at her without hurting. Tomorrow you will probably throw the photograph against the wall.

You smile at her, and at him, and the glass cracks in your hands. A bad omen.

The frame, the picture, turns to dust. You cling to it almost desperately, even as you watch your precious people slip through your fingers. You try not to let go.

It's just a photo, you think. But it's not just a photo. It's your lives.

You wake, opening your eyes with silent relief.

He lies beside you in bed. You want to touch him, to assure yourself that he's real, but there might as well be a wall between you.

It's cliché, you know, but then again things only become cliché because they're so goddamn true.

When Sasuke gets up, he leaves without saying a word.

**01.**

You stand in front of Sasuke and try not to think. Sometimes you succeed.

**11.**

He is facing you and his eyes are cold. He looks at you as if you were someone he once knew, a cheap relic of the past, something that he has no use for anymore.

You wish you could walk backwards into yesterday; the yesterday in which your deadliest argument consisted of him bitching at you for not picking your dirty clothes up off the floor.

You wish you could grab him and lead him into tomorrow, a tomorrow in which you both live your lives, in which you both get older and stronger and closer to your dreams. A tomorrow in which you are together.

You reach out and grab his arm, tugging him along.

"Come on," you say with a nervous laugh, "let's go home!"

Sasuke doesn't say anything. He doesn't move, or even acknowledge that you have spoken.

He turns around and faces the other way, away from you, away from Konoha, away from home. Your grasp on him tightens. You'll drag him if you have to. You'll beat him to within an inch of his miserable life if you have to.

But you don't want to.

**19.**

You yell and scream, and he just looks the other way, like he can't hear you.

This scenario has become familiar. Like breathing.

Once upon a time, you were naïve enough to expect more than this.

**21.**

"Is this a fucking game, Sasuke? Am I just a pawn, a toy, for your own twisted amusement?"

You must have played your part brilliantly, pouring your heart and soul out, unaware that he laughed as you danced. He plays a sick game with your lives as the pieces.

Sasuke's obsessively fixated on revenge, and you wish he would just move on. Maybe he can move on and actually find happiness here, and not make killing his brother a pre-requisite.

Yeah, the guy killed Sasuke's everything. You happen to know a little something about having nothing yourself. Namely, that it sucks. Hard. But as long as you're still breathing, it's not the end of the world.

After all, you don't blame Sasuke for hating Itachi. You blame him for being such an insufferable bitch about it.

**13.**

"We were interrupted that time," he says, "but they aren't here to save you now."

You look at him. He stands immobile, his gaze detached and calculating. His words pierce you quickly and precisely, without one unnecessary stroke. They ring in your ears and it feels clean, clean and cold, like a scalpel cutting out your heart.

When Uchiha Sasuke performs open-heart surgery, he is not kind enough to administer anesthesia.

"What's the matter? Didn't you say you wanted to fight me?"

Yes. To fight as equals. To be recognized by him as such. To throw pointy metal objects at each other, to pit his best against your best and see who comes out on top. To exhaust yourselves beyond human limitations and go home laughing about it. Well, you would have laughed, at least. And Sasuke would have smirked.

"This…this isn't the fight I wanted."

**15.**

This isn't what you wanted at all. There he stands, unapologetic, and it's his own damn pride that's killing you.

Your hand forms a fist. You're planning to hit him with it, to knock some sense into him. Maybe it would make him realize that he isn't an omniscient being, just an asshole who doesn't have any idea what the hell he's about to do. Obviously, the possible consequences of leaving don't faze him. He's too selfish to stay and too proud to explain why.

You know that even if you did hit him, you couldn't hurt him. Even while touching him you can't touch him. That much has not changed.

You hit him, and his blood stains your knuckles.

He smiles.

**18.**

His silence taunts you, itself as much of an insult as the way he looks at you, past you, through you, his eyes regarding you with contempt and boredom all at once.

You wait for him to say something, anything.

Sasuke smiles cruelly, because he knows you don't want just anything from him.

You want everything. You want answers; you want lies. You want so much more than he can give.

Not that he would give it, any of it, even if he could.

**20.**

You look in his eyes and see no regrets.

It's almost funny how those same eyes used to be indecipherable to you. The expression that once may have been mistaken for calm you easily recognize now as careful deliberation, as if he were seizing you up before deciding to pounce.

Years ago, that glance enraged you and piqued your curiosity all at once, but that was before you knew better than to expect anything good from Uchiha Sasuke.

Because you can't mean anything real to him, you can't be important enough to make him stay.

**22.**

You stand there, smiling weakly. It's all you can do to keep from losing it and beating the shit out of his pathetic, traitorous ass.

Bitter tears mingle with fresh blood, leaving searing streaks on your face.

It hurts.

He is hurting you.

He laughs.

**24.**

You wonder if he even remembers when the two of you were happy, even if it was all a façade.

It's as if you could only love his shadow, because the real Sasuke left years ago.

**25.**

It was always about Sasuke and Sasuke's issues; he could never see anything past himself.

Even after you knew none of it was real, you didn't know.

You went along with it, thought he needed it. You foolishly thought you could save him.

Maybe he wanted to start over, maybe he wanted to change for you, maybe…There were thousands of maybes, and even one of them would have been enough to give you false hope.

Everyone fell for his angry little orphan boy turned pride of Konoha act. He became the ninja genius everyone expected him to be, with none of the fratricidal mania. It was a perfect illusion you had been only too willing to believe.

All this time and he never felt a thing. You are hardly surprised at this now.

Sasuke has always been easy to read, you realize. It was just a matter of wanting to or not.

**27.**

You both are ragged and bloody, breathing heavily and drenched in water. He sports more than a few cuts to his arms, his shirt is torn, and there is a long slash down the side of his face that you hope scars terribly.

You have come out worse, though the battle seems to be turning in your favor. There is only so long he can depend on his eyes and his blood. A gaping hole, just inches away from your heart, reminds you that he was that close to killing you seconds ago. Lightning crackles as chidori's shriek subsides.

The curse seal curls darkly around his pale skin, the marks dancing like flames, like snakes.

Your wounds hiss as they close, engulfed in terrible red chakra. Your fangs are bared in a demonic smile as you come at him.

So many people gave him everything, you think, and it was all for shit.

"Why are you still grinning like an idiot?" he asks, panting.

"I won't give you anything now, least of all my anger."

**26.**

And you could tell him "I hate you" now, but it wouldn't mean a thing except "I loved you."


End file.
